


More Real Than Life

by defiersofthestars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben and Rey are ghosts, Ben is a bit of a grump, Ben is a gentleman, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Read the tags please, Rey is aggressively optimistic, They chose the same abandoned mansion, atypical love story, autumn vibes, imaginary hot chocolate with cinnamon, imaginary quilt, strong autumn vibes, they talk about death in one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defiersofthestars/pseuds/defiersofthestars
Summary: Based on the prompt by @galacticidiots: The unconventional love story of two ghosts who find themselves haunting the same house — he’s a bit of a grump. She’s aggressively optimistic. It works.“Hey Ben, wanna be my *boo*?”He can hear the smile in her voice. “Over my dead body.”“Ohh where are you buried?”She is younger than him (counting from whichever of two dates you choose), she is talkative and always tries to make jokes. Tries.“Jeez! I love this rosebush, Benjamin, don’t you dare to snap a branch!”“How many times did I tell you to knock before flying through a damn wall? I may be naked!”He rolls his eyes.TW: characters discuss possible reasons of their death in one scene. See them in italics.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection





	More Real Than Life

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://ibb.co/tcqv4N6)   
> 

“Hey Ben, wanna be my _boo_?”

He can hear the smile in her voice.

“Over my dead body.”

Rey hums before continuing their game.

“Oh-h, where are you buried, then?”

Ben sighs, still not turning away from a big picture on the wall. The paint residue has faded to the point that he can hardly recognize its characters. His gaze travels down from green outlines of high trees to colorful spots here and there that must be gowns of the people walking in a park. Looks like they all are watching two dancers captured by an artist in the middle of a figure in a carefree dance.

This is one of a few things left in the old house he chose to live in many, many years ago – an old red brick mansion surrounded by thick trees and huge rosebushes. Their blossoms burn outside the windows like red, peach, and tan flames. Ben is unable to feel smells and touch petals, but his memories about their sweet aromas and soft edges are vivid and clear.

“I’ve noticed you look at my beloved roses pretty often. Did you trick me into believing you just _found_ this place? Maybe that’s where I can find _you_!”

She giggles, and then he can hear a low _wooh._ A second later, he sees Rey through the nearest window; cooing over the rosebushes, she brushes her almost transparent white fingers through their green leaves.

“I showed you them in the first place,” Ben mutters under his breath.

He likes his home. Silence had always been the main good thing about it, as no one and nothing in the world dared to go through the sinister dense forest to find his cozy (and palatial) abode.

No one... except one dashing ghost that suddenly decided to settle down _here_ after several years of wandering. Rey appeared in his after-life one normal day, like the first spark of the sun at dawn, shining and warm despite her... state. She is younger than him (counting from whichever of two dates you choose), she is talkative and always tries to make jokes. **Tries.**

_“You seem so far away, though you are standing near. You made me feel alive, but something died I fear_ … come on, Ben, sing along! We will figure it out together!”

“Jeez! I love this rosebush, Benjamin, don’t you dare to snap a branch!”

“This spider follows me everywhere, Ben! Do something! He’s huge, and I don’t like his look. What if he’s poisonous?”

(Ben does nothing – except, maybe, hiding his smile at her whirling in the air like a crazy ballerina.)

“How many times did I tell you to knock before flying through a damn wall? I may be _naked_!”

He rolls his eyes. They both know they can’t change their clothes (or take it off, the thing she seems to regret too much in Ben’s presence).

From now on, she will always wear a long dress with floral patterns. He came here wearing jeans, a shirt and a leather jacket. The last thing happens to give her a special pleasure: Rey often wonders aloud where can a ghost of the creature “he killed for stupid fashion” be now.

“Can you hear _moo_ or _oink-oink_? Does this poor baby come to you in nightmares?”

“I don’t have nightmares, sweetheart.”

“Well, you should, honey!”

And so on, and so on. She keeps teasing him, imagining herself as an owner of this mansion, asking him whom they should invite to the next ball (“not that scruffy-looking Mr. Plutt who ate all my favorite chocolate cookies last time!”)

*

Sometimes Ben forces himself to reply to her, just to see her smile – it seems to be as real as if she is still alive. Sometimes, needing space, he hides in the big room where (he guesses) was a library. An empty fireplace and wooden panels on the walls generously decorated by spiders make him think about high bookshelves made of dark wood, full of small and big books of all colors with golden names and titles on their spines, illuminated by fire. Concentrating, he can still smell those special intertwined aromas of dust and old paper, pleasant, soft, and comforting. He used to read a lot, but now he has only memories of books.

A ghost’s memory is curious, actually. He can still remember almost everything he has ever seen, touched, smelled, tasted or heard, but one thing is hidden from him – the day of his death.

Rey doesn’t remember it either, but she likes to guess (of course she does). _Did she try to save a kitten? Did she witness a murder near the museum she worked at? Was it an accident?_

Ben stopped thinking about it a long time ago, and he doesn’t need to start it again now. Rey does it for two.

_“I think maybe you tried to save books from fire in your college’s library,”_ she tells him one day, when they sit on a wide windowsill, facing each other. _“I can imagine you throwing off the window the complete works of Isaac Newton or someone like that. You seem to like books so much. Or, this is what happened: coming out of your office, you saw a woman in the middle of a busy street and didn’t let her get hit by a bus.”_

_“Why don’t you think it was something simple, like a brick from above?”_

She pauses for a moment, tilting her head. Ben is sure he would blush under her gaze, if he still could.

“Ben, your face is too heroic, you know, in a good way. Trust me, I saw so many ancient works of art. I’d call you a savior, a knight – _a Master of the Knights of Calculus_. All college professors have a double life, huh?”

He blinks, her words leaving him speechless.

“I never was vain, but… Thank you, _milady_.”

“You wasn't? This mansion suits you, though,” she winks at him, smoothing her already perfect dress.

In fact, it is nice, knowing that someone thinks you were a hero. _Especially_ if this someone has such deep green eyes and soft features. He also cannot help but notices her graceful figure flattered by this dress.

This is not a traditional kind of love, Ben thinks. Can this ever happen to ghosts? But it is clear to him Rey has changed his after-life forever. He may be grumpy, he may scowl at her antics, but the very knowledge of Rey being at this mansion, with him, makes his heart-that-makes-no-beats-anymore _feel_ something again, new, nice, and a bit squeezing. He chose this place to escape from noisy students and crowded places and was ready to be a speechless shadow till the end of time. He suspects Rey knows and is determined to not allow it.

He still doesn’t understand why, although it’s been several months since they met, but, for the first time in his conscious life, he lets himself just enjoy what’s happening.

*

Rey likes watching sunset, leaning on a rusted metal balustrade, sharp leaves of wide grapes going through her hands and knees. Her body doesn’t feel cold or roughness, the last rays of sun make her almost invisible, but she is still able to appreciate the beauty of the multicolored sky and face an army of dark clouds approaching their home. So many talented artists lived in this world, and even more will live, but she believes that no one of them would paint the sky better than nature itself. She snaps her head up to see chaotic purple, blue, orange, and pink stains being surmounted by the first white star.

Ben finds her here.

“Hey, I just saw…”

He freezes, seeing her unusually brooding and even sad.

“What’s up?”

Averting her eyes, Rey looks at the far edge of the forest where distant lights of the city can be seen. Using the advantage of being a ghost, Ben flies around her and stops outside the balcony, just in the middle of entanglement of thin grape branches.

“Still itchy,” he grimaces to cheer her up, but she is still quiet. He tries it again.

“Do you remember what you told me when you came here?”

Finally, Rey slowly turns her head to meet the serious gaze of his brown eyes.

“That I had a _ghostly_ feeling about this?”

He snorts.

“Not bad, but still wrong. _You’re not alone anymore –_ that’s it.”

He leans forward, noticing freckles on her nose and cheeks for the first time. They make her more beautiful, if that’s even possible.

Rey’s lips part in surprise. Her gaze runs across his face, strong nose, plush lips, and little moles on his cheeks she wishes she could _really_ touch. She has told him so much for the last months, and now she feels pleasantly surprised he remembered this half joke.

“And may I remind you that–” he continues, almost whispering, “neither are _you_.”

Finally, a little smile twitches at her lips.

“Okay. You see, since my _after_ -life has started, I always feel myself strange on this day, September first. I used to make it special when I lived in the city. Sometimes I miss it.”

“To me, it used to be just a start of one more academic year. New faces, same calculations. Tell me about your September first.”

She pauses, still looking uncertain. He gives her his large hand.

“May I?”

She pretends to take it, even though there’s no need to. Together, they go inside and slowly fly through the hall into the corridor with empty bedrooms on the right, as if really walking.

“It’s okay. Just breathe,” Ben reminds her before realizing they both don’t need it anymore. Rey raises her eyebrow.

“I like it when you joke, Ben- _Boo_.”

“You’re welcome. Focus. Try to remember every detail. All the shades of what you saw, what you tasted, the smallest sounds – how did they make you feel?”

His deep voice seems too loud in the silence surrounding them. They go through cracked walls without noticing it, Rey’s story bringing Ben back in time, far away from their arboreal area. The images of her past life light up before her eyes, her voice tender and just a little regretful.

“I used to have some rituals to greet autumn properly. I wore a soft beige sweater and brown jeans and put on gold leaf-shaped earrings – I still love this color scheme. I wish you could see me in that outfit, my dear,” she cannot help but teases him again. “I had freshly baked cinnamon bread for breakfast with vanilla latte. Aromas of cinnamon, vanilla, and brown sugar were so warm and soft – like a cozy blanket you can also eat and smell.”

She chuckles, hearing Ben snorting again.

“I had to make myself stop and not finish bread in one sitting. Then, during a lunch break, I got myself a cup of cocoa with cinnamon and marshmallows. There’s no such thing as _too much_ cinnamon, you know.”

“Can’t agree more.”

Turning her head, Rey sees him smiling at her. She likes how his smile reflects in his eyes, so rare and thus sincere, with dimples on his cheeks.

Reaching stairs to the first floor without haste, they go down, lost in the story painted with warm colors, smelling sweet and spicy.

“After the end of my shift at a museum souvenir shop, I went to my favorite bookstore to buy a new book. Classical, science fiction, young adult – whatever caught my attention. A happy ending was the only condition. They were my family, you know, and real friends that would have _never_ abandoned me. I’m an adult woman, and it sounds pathetic, but…”

“No, I understand it,” replies Ben who used to have attachment issues too. _So many books, so few human beings –_ that’s what his students once called him behind his back. “What’s next?”

Following him automatically, Rey continues.

“Before going home, I went to a family restaurant, _The Johnsons_ , to buy chicken curry and a salad with pumpkin, arugula, and blue cheese.”

“And where-”

“Be patient! After dinner, I made tea with cinnamon _-“_

“Ah, I was starting to worry.”

“- and lemon and curled up in my favorite chair with a new book. My last one was _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_ by Anne Brontë.”

“I think I heard about this one.”

“It’s unfairly underrated!” Rey manages to stop herself before starting a new conversation about literature.

Slipping through one more wall, they find themselves near rosebushes, now in a violet hue.

“Is this the end?” Ben asks, still holding her hand (or trying to make it look so).

“No.”

Hovering above the ground, under the sky full of stars blinking at them, Rey finishes.

“Then I went to sleep, praying for the rest of the year to be as cozy and peaceful as September first was to me.”

After a couple of minutes of silence, she adds, looking up at the majestic mansion in front of them:

“Maybe my memories of _The Tenant_ made me set out and look for _my_ place of peace instead of wandering forever through the world. Helen did it, after all.”

She sighs out of habit.

“It’s so strange… Seems like something inside me has always been there and awakened only when it was over. Like a bond that came to _life_ , which is ironic. It was growing stronger and stronger, like candlelight, and, finally, I came here. How is it even possible, _professor_?”

Ben’s gaze dances from her face to the stars.

“I don’t know. I’m a man of science, taught to believe there’s no such thing as after-life because of countless paradoxes of all stripes. But here I am, living as a ghost in an abandoned mansion, needing no food, going through the walls, that sort of thing. If someone tells me some people are destined to be together despite everything, I will not be surprised.”

Rey is about to exclaim something like “I can’t wait to go look at wedding dresses!”, but then Ben says:

“Let’s create new rituals for this day, then.”

Rey’s eyes widen.

“What do you mean?”

He furrows his brows, as if looking for something. Rey doesn’t know she’s about to watch the best pantomime in both her lives.

“I meet you here, near your _beloved_ rosebushes, before sunset. As you don’t have a sweater, I bring you a woolen quilt,” he draws a big rectangle in the air between them before pointing at particular areas. “It’s pretty soft too, and it’s not only beige. There are also white, red, and orange squares separated by borders of chocolate brown color.”

“Incredibly gallant.”

“Then,” he suddenly moves forwards, Rey following him inside until they reach a door that leads to a kitchen downstairs, “we go there to make hot chocolate with cinnamon and vanilla whipped cream. I pretend not to see you hiding some marshmallows in your mug.”

“Hey! And _I_ pretend that you don’t save one piece of chocolate for yourself.”

“Deal. I’m prepared today, so here’s your mug.”

Giggling, she takes an invisible mug.

“Smells delicious. Good job.”

“Vanilla did the trick. To me, it adds the last hints of summer to the autumn greeting,” he closes his eyes for a moment, as if really trying it.

Rey shakes her head in surprise. This side of Ben is completely new to her – playful and funny, _lovely_ , and it balances out his usual seriousness and reserve.

“I guess that’s not all.”

He winks at her, and _oh, God_. She feels something strange squeezing in her chest.

“You’re right.”

They fly up in the air, going through a ceiling of one room and a floor of another. Finally, two ghosts sit close to each other on the roof, looking at the cloudless starry sky again. Rey pretends that she wraps the quilt around them both, as Ben sips at imaginary hot chocolate in his imaginary mug. Time passes.

“It was a great idea to take the quilt. It’s getting cold,” Rey says, the night around them quiet and glistening.

“How could I not? We’ll be here all night. Drinking chocolate, watching the stars, enjoying our lives…” Ben pauses, suddenly looking embarrassed. He supposed it to be a game to cheer Rey up, but it’s so easy to believe everything they imagine here can be _real_.

Rey reaches out to touch his thick black hair, wishing more than ever they both were able to feel it. He looks at her, so uncertain and still full of hope.

“I have something to add. I thank you for being there for me,” she mocks his solemn tone, her eyes soft and deep. “I thank you for staying while there are so many abandoned mansions in the world. You can be such _a bore_ , but I would still miss you.”

A smile breaks on his lips.

“Well, just because I don’t streak across the house like you, singing and waving hands as if-”

“ _Then_ ,” Rey stresses out, “I ask you to take a break from watching the stars and dance with me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, vaguely remembering the painting downstairs. Penetrating their hands through each other, they lift off the tiled roof, whirling slowly, swaying, pulling closer and pulling away, starlight making them both shine with white and turquoise. Neither of them says as much as a word, their eyes speaking to each other instead, smells of cinnamon and chocolate around so real. Who would have thought that they could get so much after losing everything?

“I have two questions. No rituals,” Rey whispers a few minutes later, putting her head on Ben’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist.

“M-m-m?”

“Are we all made of stardust? I read some scientists believe the Earth was formed from the remnants of ancient stars.”

“It can be true, I suppose. I mean, it sounds wonderful, but people tend to forget a star is just a huge ball of plasma producing light. Sorry,” he adds, hearing her disgruntled groan.

“It’s fine. I know you don’t think it’s just _a ball._ ”

He smiles into her short brown hair, still soft.

“And the second question?”

“What did you want to tell me back then, on the balcony?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I saw a blue butterfly outside. I have never seen them here before, and-”

She silences him, pressing her lips to his.

Ben hardly believes it’s just his imagination – how her lips are so soft against his own, how he can suddenly taste cinnamon and chocolate again, how her thin fingers brush against his chest to his hair.

Closing her eyes, Rey hopes against all hope that it’s all real – his hands holding her shoulders, the vanilla-cinnamon-chocolate taste of his plush lips caressing hers, his dark locks tickling her skin.

Two souls made of stardust, they shine in the sky above their little world full of love, full of _life_ against all odds.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :)
> 
> You can see the painting Ben looked at here: https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.96.html


End file.
